


sculpted

by jongdang



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Community: chenpionships, M/M, Non Idol Verse, but he's got minseok smitten always, jongdae's like a weird sour patch kid, sometimes he's snarky sometimes he's sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-21 02:24:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11934351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jongdang/pseuds/jongdang
Summary: “he can’t help the way his eyes fixate on high cheekbones, a sharp jawline. it’s like the other’s been sculpted; is an art project all on his own. jongdae’s angular and precise, and minseok is drawn by the inclination that he much rather study this structure than think of his own for a class.”





	sculpted

**Author's Note:**

> this didn’t quite come out like i’d intended but i hope it’s still enjoyable. full disclaimer that i am not an architecture student so my apologies for any gaps in the details there. thank you to the mods for another great year and all your hard work, and to my prompter for the cute plot!

**Prompt** : #356  
**Pairing** : chen/xiumin  
**Warnings** : sex in a semi-public area  
  


* * *

**DAYS UNTIL DUE DATE: 20**

“Locate your name and partner for the final project,” prompts the professor. “I’ve emailed you all the full instructions, but as a reminder, your task is to design a layout for an ideal safe house during a zombie apocalypse. Work needs to be evenly distributed, and I will be expecting a list of both partners’ contributions as well as the final product.”

Minseok’s eyes hone in on the projection on the screen, trailing the line that connects his to a _Kim Jongdae’s_.

The name ignites an involuntary little spark of adrenaline through the fourth-year undergraduate, because he _knows_ that name. And while he’s never actually spoken more than four words to the guy ( “ _Is this seat taken?_ ” ), his classmate had caught enough of his attention to remember his name. He’s pretty sure he sat next to him once on one of the day’s he’d come to class late, where the latter was sitting in the back row, and he’d taken a peek at the name on the other’s notes because he was admittedly kind of extremely attractive.

“Minseok-hyung!”

Turning, Minseok sees the third-year in question making his way down the large, carpeted steps of the lecture hall and towards where he stands in the front. Corners of eyes crinkle as Jongdae smiles at him, expression almost sheepish. “Hey. I’m Jongdae.”

The elder doesn’t know how to respond at first, a bit taken off guard because he doesn’t want to say ‘ _Yeah, I know_ ’ and expose himself but he’s also unsure how the other knows _his_ name. “Hey, Jongdae,” is what falls from his lips, offering a small smile. “I’d introduce myself in return, but…”

“Oh, yeah,” the other finishes the thought for them, hand reaching back to scratch the nape of his neck. “You probably don’t remember, but we sat next to each other once towards the beginning of the semester, I think-- and you dropped your sketch pad at the end of class so I checked the name inside in order to get your attention.”

Oh. Right. Minseok had conveniently blocked out that mildly embarrassing part of their first encounter.

Ignoring the faint heat he can feel at the bottom of his neck, threatening to travel upward and color his cheeks, Minseok chuckles. “I remember now.” His eyes flicker to the stream of students exiting the lecture hall, knowing it’s probably past the official time to go. “I’ve gotta dash to another class, but I’ll give you my number and we can arrange a time and place to meet soon for brainstorming, if that sounds okay?”

Jongdae’s already fishing his phone out of his pocket and pulling up his contacts before the question is finished being asked. “Cool, yeah, that sounds perfect.” He waits until Minseok’s finished programming in his phone, and then he offers another smile, body already angling to leave. “I’ll text you later.”

And, sure enough, as Minseok’s phone buzzes an hour later while he’s in his structures lecture, he can’t help but scoff at himself. The first cute boy’s number he’s gotten in a while, and it’s for a class.

* * *

**DAYS UNTIL DUE DATE: 16**

They’re a grand total of four days into their official work period and Minseok is already apprehensive about being partnered with Jongdae.

Not because the latter is slacking off and not pulling their own weight. In fact, Jongdae is a rather diligent student, agreeing to meet him at the local coffee shop right off campus when their schedules allow it ( and rearranging parts of his to grant opportunity for overlap ) to brainstorm ideas. He contributes quite a fair amount; doesn’t try to get away with just having Minseok carry the both of them forward and agreeing with everything the senior offers just to finish more quickly. 

Minseok respects him in this sense. No, his issues don’t lie in the other’s work ethic.

Instead, his issues lie with how Jongdae is awfully _distracting_.

And even this isn’t entirely the other’s fault. It’s not that Jongdae makes conscious attempts to tear Minseok’s attention away from the list of components they’ve got scrawled down in their notebooks. It’s just that his eyes can’t help but get pulled upward anytime he hears laughter that’s somehow both hearty and bubbly ripple past lips that seem to naturally curl on their own.

He can’t help the way his eyes fixate on high cheekbones, a sharp jawline. It’s like the other’s been sculpted; is an art project all on his own. Jongdae’s angular and precise, and Minseok is drawn by the inclination that he much rather study this structure than think of his own for a class.

“Hey, Minseok?”

The elder tears his gaze away from the tiny, circular beauty mark located at the bottom of Jongdae’s neck ( he’s struck with the odd urge to brush his fingers over it ) with a questioning hum, hoping to god he wasn’t just busted.

Aside from a faint expression of amusement that it is entirely plausible Minseok may be conjuring up in his own mind and the pushing up of gold-rimmed circular glasses, Jongdae doesn’t seem to be too phased. He asks about how they could try to camouflage the entrance of their safehouse to avoid suspicion by the zombies. Dryly, Minseok remarks that all they need is to place Professor Lee at the front of the entryway and, with one look at his lifeless demeanor, the undead would believe the place had already been taken over.

And Jongdae laughs at that, fully. Minseok’s gaze is stuck on the way his partner’s adam’s apple bobs with the motion, before he clears his throat and forces himself to turn his attention elsewhere, reaching for his latte.

Yeah, it’s going to be a long 16 days.

* * *

**DAYS UNTIL DUE DATE: 12**  

With just under two weeks until they need to turn in the project, they’ve moved their process from planning to execution, relocating from the cafe to the architecture building on campus. The computer labs and workstations are packed with students all working on their designs, voices filtering through the air to mingle with the clicks of mouses and taps of styluses on tablets.

They take turns drawing their layouts, then pouring over what they’ve done and providing each other feedback before editing and revising. It’s a long, methodical process, one that leaves them in the studio far into the night with sunken eyes and deep sighs, only the particularly determined-- or masochistic-- students still there with them ( Minseok allows himself to be more open during these times when they’re lying on the top of their workstation table, answering questions Jongdae lobs his way candidly and not shying away even if they leave him a little exposed and vulnerable ).

Minseok finds himself declining offers from his roommates and friends to go out to dinner or for drinks, trading them in for more time with Jongdae and their project.

Is it strictly necessary, putting _this_ much time in at the studio? Will their project suffer if he does not?

Probably not.

But he still likes spending time with Jongdae. And not just because the other’s really fucking cute. Jongdae’s witty and always down for a good joke, but he’s also calming; grounding on his own. He seems to adapt to those around him; when his two rowdier friends Baekhyun and Chanyeol drop by the studio to deliver him coffee and provide a bit of distraction, he picks up on their energy and becomes more hyper himself.

When he and Minseok are alone, however, he’s more subdued. There’s still that underlying current of warmth and animation, but he’s thoughtful in a way that might not be caught onto right away. And the older is admittedly charmed by this; wants to get to know him even further.

His attraction to the other, he’s beginning to realize as he watches Jongdae take a bite of delivered kimbap from across the part of their desk they’ve cleared off, may run deeper than mere physicality.

And, as if hearing the mental revelation, his partner glances up. Minseok blanches, feels himself swallow, but Jongdae merely offers him a bright smile and soft chuckle. “Hey.”

The older nearly chokes.

He’s in trouble.

* * *

**DAYS UNTIL DUE DATE: 8**

It’s rapidly approaching 04:00, some chill electronic playlist filtering from Jongdae’s phone, and Minseok has lost count of how many lattes he’s consumed-- though he’s fairly certain that he’s been single-handedly keeping the coffee shop across the street running for business. They’ve been keeping themselves well-paced enough that nights that run _this_ long haven’t been too frequent, but with just over a week left, he doesn’t want to take any chances.

At this point, as he finishes off the last of his current drink ( which has long gone cold given he’d had to purchase this hours ago in advance before the place closed ), he thinks he’s fortunate enough that he’s caught some sort of second wind that should keep him on his feet for at least another hour or so.

Jongdae’s sitting in one of the stools at their workstation, stooped over a print of one of his sketches and working at accenting the shading physically with charcoal pencils. Minseok indulges himself in watching the other work, captivated by the way the incredibly loose hemline of Jongdae’s shirt dips even lower in this position, revealing an incredibly prominent collarbone. He can see the way the skin moves over it as Jongdae shifts, neck craning to look at a different angle.

He’s flooded with the desire to study it in a more hands-on ( or even a mouth-on ) manner.

Moving his line of vision upward has him meeting a questioning gaze, but aside from a blink, Minseok thinks he’s pretty good at masking his startlement. “It looks nice,” he somehow manages to formulate the thought ( and really, his frontal lobe should get a prize for managing to save his sorry self like that ), nodding towards the sketch although he wasn’t exactly referring to it.

There might be a ‘thank you’ involved, but Minseok can’t be sure because he’s already purposefully distancing himself a little by making his way back over to their station’s computer, wiggling the mouse and re-entering his school credentials. He needs to get his mind _off_ of Jongdae’s magnificent bone structure and more onto the structure of their building.

It’s been a few minutes into editing one of his floor designs when he feels a hand suddenly clasp over his shoulder. He nearly jolts, quiet and startled yelp escaping his lips, and he hears a responding chuckle ( has to restrain a shiver when he feels it fall in a rush of warm breath over the back of his neck ).

“Just me,” comes Jongdae’s rumbling, amused quip, and Minseok doesn’t have to look to _know_ how close they are; can hear the voice near his ear. “Whatcha workin’ on?”

Minseok purposefully keeps his eyes diligently focused on the screen, bringing up their project and selecting one of his floors. “I wanna toy with the idea of adding another dimension here,” he conjures up on the spot, navigating to the correct tool in the selection and clicking about despite knowing he’ll just ‘forget to save’ and lose the edits anyway. “I know it’s last-minute, but it might add some depth.”

There’s a thoughtful hum in his ear, and Minseok accidentally clicks an area he hadn’t meant to, distorting the grid on the screen. “Whoops,” Jongdae chuckles, before the hand not on his shoulder moves to ( unhelpfully ) point at the eraser function.

Boxing him in. Enclosing.

It’s not that he resents their close proximity or is uncomfortable by it in any typical sense of the term. No, part of him ( the part he refuses to consciously acknowledge ) relishes in it. But everything suddenly feels all too _hot_.

“Hey, d’you think you could maybe--” Minseok begins, swiveling around in his chair suddenly and hand bracing before him.

Except he makes the mistake of flickering his eyes upward and meeting theirs together, and his train of thought comes to a screeching halt. Jongdae’s gaze looks so deliberate that Minseok feels the rest of his sentence die on his tongue. Only belatedly does he realize his hand is still on the younger’s chest, and while he’d fully intended to gently nudge the other back, his fingers have betrayed him by curling slightly around that loose hemline, knuckles resting against warm skin beneath.

“Yes?” Jongdae all but purrs, and the other can swear there’s a teasing curl to those lips; a coy lilt in the tone.

Minseok means to recover enough to still make it out of this alive, but his eyes trail to where his hand rests against Jongdae’s chest. Flush in his cheeks all too prevalent even to himself, he removes his hand slowly, fully prepared to mutter a quick ‘nevermind’ and return to their project.

But he doesn’t get the chance. Jongdae’s hand reaches for his instead, guiding it back to his chest, then moving it up to rest on that incredibly sharp jawline. His grip burns, semi-firm but still loose enough to allow the other to pull away if desired.

Only: Minseok doesn’t desire to.

Instead, he lets the heat-- the adrenaline-- coursing through his body to overwhelm him. His thumb moves to brush over Jongdae’s lower lip, and he doesn’t miss the quiver of Jongdae’s adam’s apple in response. When he takes the risk of glancing back upward, their eyes don’t meet; the younger’s are lower. On Minseok’s lips.

For one of the first times, the fourth-year allows himself to surrender to his impulsion, and leans in to press his mouth to the other’s.

Despite the sudden brazenness of the gesture, the kiss is light, hesitancy heavily coating the exchange. Jongdae’s lips are so soft that it’s all that Minseok can focus on, all but forgetting to remind himself to breathe as he commits the way they move slowly beneath his to memory. He feels the hand that was resting on the computer mouse move, as if of its own accord, to rest lightly against the side of the other’s neck with slight pressure.

It’s when the kiss breaks naturally, warmth briefly departing him as their faces draw apart by a few inches, that Minseok lets his eyes open once more, settling on a gentle, dark gaze.

“Is this okay--” he begins to ask, but is cut off by a mouth connecting with his, except there’s a considerably greater amount of pressure.

This time, the fourth-year reacts more viscerally, the fingers already resting at Jongdae’s neck moving to cup the nape of it more solidly and other hand reaching to grip at the younger’s neck and tug him closer. It’s sort of inevitable, the way the latter all but stumbles into Minseok’s lap, but neither complain as they adjust, Jongdae planting his feet on the floor with his thighs at either side of the his partner’s hips.

Jongdae presses himself closer at the same time he deepens their kiss, and Minseok’s hand moves to splay along the small of the younger’s back, feeling heat beneath his palm. His tongue pushes forward to brush against the other’s at the same time he feels hips rock into his, and there’s an answering groan lost between their mouths, fingers fisting the fabric they’re tangled in. Silently encouraged, Jongdae’s fingers grasp at a clothed thigh, using the purchase as leverage to grind down harder.

Minseok gasps at this, lips breaking off briefly as his hand trails lower, over the curve of Jongdae’s ass, and takes the opportunity to move his mouth to the other’s jaw line, pressing open-mouthed kisses along the bone. The kisses move lower, traveling down Jongdae’s neck ( with his tongue darting out to brush over the skin each time ) until they make contact with that glorious collarbone he hasn’t been able to tear his gaze from for the past two weeks straight. He wastes no time in finally indulging himself, teeth sinking down so he can suck at the skin and reveling in the gravelly, drawn-out moan he wrenches in response. Fingers wind in his hair and tug, anchoring him closer before he releases the skin, sure he’ll see the carmine plumes as evidence of his actions within the next minute or so.

A demanding tug of his hair has Minseok’s head tipping back up so their mouths can collide together once more, the hand that’d been at his thigh now slipping beneath his shirt to skirt along his side. Jongdae’s touch burns; has him nipping at the younger’s lower lip gruffly in retaliation and delighting in the resounding whine that sounds between them.

They continue on like this, half dry humping against one another in a chair in the center of their work station and half scrambling to get even closer, for a while, until Minseok’s left a trail of plum markings all along the line from Jongdae’s collarbone to his shoulder. He’s tugged at the other’s shirt so much that the hem’s been stretched out even more, so loose that it’s pretty pointless to bother keeping the article of clothing on in the first pace.

And the fourth-year has always been one to toss away things that no longer suit their purpose, so his fingers move to curl beneath the fabric and slip it over Jongdae’s head. The younger is more than happy to help, ducking out from under it and tossing the offending barrier between them aside before capturing Minseok’s lips in another deep kiss and swiveling his hips in a way that has the latter’s mind going blissfully blank.

It would be so easy to lose himself in this: in the sensory overload of heat and pressure and friction; hands, fingers, lips, tongues. Minseok is more than happy to let himself do so, but all too soon, the heat’s slipping away.

But then his eyes opens and he finds Jongdae on his knees on the floor before him, lips bright rose and gleaming from the vigor of their kisses. Jongdae’s gaze dances, challenge glinting dangerously in the pupils as his hands work at undoing Minseok’s belt, then removing it and sliding that off to who knew where before wasting no time in pulling down the zipper next, soon slipping his fingers inside.

Moments later, any complaint from the loss of heat dies on Minseok’s tongue the moment Jongdae swipes his against him.

* * *

**DAYS UNTIL DUE DATE: 4**

Is it too conventional-- too _predictable_ \-- to want a relationship that has crossed the line into sexual territory to also include romantic aspects?

Is it merely a result of being socialized to desire more out of a bond, as if one or the other was not enough on its own?

Or is it something else entirely, something whose roots are deeply entangled in the soil of the unknown, something Minseok has not yet been able to even begin to wrap his head around?

“Quit thinking so much.”

Minseok blinks at the chide, natural defenses coming to his aide. “I’m not.”

“You are, and it’s kind of annoying.” If it weren’t for the fact that Minseok could clearly see the smirk playing at Jongdae’s features, he would worry that it was serious irritation. “We finally got a condom and your mind’s off somewhere else when it should be focusing on how goddamn fantastic I feel around you.”

As if to emphasize his words, Jongdae rolls forward, absolutely devastating with the agonizingly slow heat and glide the movement provides, before slamming his hips back. Minseok stutters, a curse falling off his lips and under his breath as it hitches.

Jongdae’s right: they’re finally fucking. Minseok needs to pull his head from out of his ass and focus on giving his partner’s ( incredibly perky ) the attention it deserves.

One hand moves to grip at the side of Jongdae’s waist tightly, grasp firm as the other rests over curved flesh. Minseok bends down from where he’s got the younger bent over the table of one of the only workstations without materials strewn all over the surface to press a kiss to Jongdae’s bare shoulder, right over one of the fading marks from the last time they’d gotten carried away just days before. It’s the only warning he provides before he brings his hand up and then strikes it solidly against Jongdae’s ass, the noise ringing sharply through the air. It also sets of the quick, heavy snap of his hips, the slap of their skin meeting again and again loud in his ears.

“Oh, oh _fuck_ , Minseok,” Jongdae mewls, greedy for it; hands splayed before him and grasping at the smooth surface of the table, frantically rocking back to meet Minseok.

All uncertainties evade his consciousness as Minseok loses himself in the heat between them: overwhelming and all-consuming. Eventually, Jongdae comes writhing on the table with his cheek pressed against the surface and release coating Minseok’s fingers, trembling as the elder coaxes him through it. The other isn’t too far off after him, jerky and reckless movements seizing as pleasure coats his entire system and leaves him breathless.

It’s not until they’re both wiping their hands dry in the bathroom afterward, having cleaned themselves up, does the unease of ambiguity return.

“So,” Jongdae begins with a small smile, approaching where Minseok rests back against the sinks’ counter. “I’m dying to know what was so engaging that it even managed to distract you from having sex with me.”

The fourth-year isn’t how to approach the topic without seeming silly and naive, and so he deflects it with the faint shake of his head. “Nothing-- my affinity for distraction only managed to seize hold of me at a terribly inconvenient time, is all.”

“Liar,” is the read, but the smile doesn’t go anywhere. And then, it softens, Jongdae’s head dipping down as he searches for the other’s gaze. “You can tell me anything that’s on your mind, y’know.”

Minseok tries his best to avoid the younger’s gaze. He knows that, the moment their eyes meet, it’s game over. There’s something about Jongdae: something so warm and inviting and valuing that makes vulnerability entirely too tempting.

But he’s also absolute shit at being able to keep his eyes _off_ Jongdae, and when he glances up only to find the other regarding him carefully ( somehow with both concern and invitation ) has the words tumbling out of his lips before he can clamp them shut to form a barricade. “I just don’t know what’s going to happen.”

Minseok has never been a man of many words. And so there is plenty that goes unspoken, something along the lines of: _I don’t know what’s going to happen after we turn this shitshow in and can no longer use the excuse of immense levels of caffeine and extreme sleep deprivation to justify our actions. I don’t know what’s going to happen when there’s no incentive for us to spend so much time with each other and I hate the idea of this being just some way to get us through this project, a product of late nights and delirious minds because fuck, I really like you._

Fortunately, Jongdae has always been one to read between the lines, and the tone he replies with somehow manages to soothe some of Minseok’s anxiety. “We’ve had some pretty exceptional circumstances these past few weeks. Let’s meet and have a discussion to see where this takes us after we turn the project in, okay?”

It’s not the instant gratification and validation Minseok had silently been desperate for. Hardly one to let this show, he nods curtly but offers no vocal follow-up, instead angling his body to head for the exit.

“Min,” Jongdae begins, and it’s not the new term of endearment that has the elder halting, but the pleading tone.

He can more sense than see the other approach, and he braces himself, half expecting to hear some obligatory ‘I like you’ that Jongdae feels like he has to say to get Minseok to believe him.

But instead, their lips meet, and the kiss is so tender that it speaks far more than words ever could.

* * *

**DAYS UNTIL DUE DATE: 0**

The moment after they’ve turned their project into their professor, Jongdae turns to Minseok and asks him out on a date.

“A real one,” he clarifies with a quirky smile and bright eyes. “One that’s not in this damned building, for one.”

Minseok accepts, and is elated to discover that these dates do not dissipate even after they’ve long completed their project together. Time that had been spent haphazardly working in the building is dedicated to getting to know one another in much more relaxed settings, laughs stemming from genuine amusement at what the other’s said as opposed to malfunctions in the brain due to loose grips on reality.

And, when they will eventually grow to discover that they’ve earned an A on their project, Jongdae will come over to Minseok’s apartment to celebrate.

“Honestly,” Jongdae will murmur as he presses Minseok against the door the moment it shuts behind them, teeth grazing along Minseok’s pulse point, “I’m much more excited about the D.”


End file.
